


That Evil Snake

by JosephineStone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Cross-Generation Relationship, M/M, Sirius Lives, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:43:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2429255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosephineStone/pseuds/JosephineStone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Though Harry frightens me more—what innocence in him I might taint if he gave me the chance—Draco was the one I should have feared. I knew why he was there and what he wanted. I knew he used me to get as close to Harry as possible. I simply never considered how far he was willing to take that. I watched them, torn between wanting to see them come together and enjoying being what kept them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Evil Snake

Though Harry frightened me more—what innocence in him I might taint if he gave me the chance—Draco was the one I should have feared. I knew why he was there and what he wanted. I knew he used me to get as close to Harry as possible. I simply never considered how far he was willing to take that.

‘Fancy,’ Draco mocked my latest gift to Harry: robes, music, and books. More introduction to the wizarding childhood he missed out on.

Harry glared but he had grown past throwing punches for Draco’s flippant remarks. 

They were the opposite of how James and I were when we were their age: Harry had a naivety that the rest of us never possessed; Draco had an intelligence that reminded me of my brother. Something James and I could have used a good dose of. Harry looked up to me, and Draco saw through my every facade. 

During the war, Draco came to live with me at Grimmauld Place for protection; supposedly until the end of the war, which came and went without him picking up and leaving. He was in contact with his mother—who was staying with relatives, but not his father—who was awaiting a his trial in Azkaban. I didn’t ask why he didn’t want to join his mother. I was comfortable enough with him here. We mostly ignored each other and only came in contact when Harry stopped by to visit and rest before heading out in search of something again. Harry came to live with me as soon as the war was over.

Draco’s jealousy became obvious to me then, as well as Harry obliviousness to the idea that anyone might see him as someone desirable. That he missed Draco’s jealousy, which to me was tangible enough to mold into figurines and have them dance across the table in front of us, meant he that he very easily could be unaware of my true interest. Though Harry couldn’t see what Draco nor I were like before he entered the room to compare, I still found it hard to imagine him not knowing.

‘He’s not James.’ Molly’s voice in the back of my mind was a constant reminder that James was dead, and Harry, his son, did not look at me in the way I looked at him. He looked at me as the father figure he’d lost and this was the source of his obliviousness to my actions. I kept my distance and played my part, and Draco burned me with his knowing scorn.

I knew he was not James; they were far too different. James often had the same look on his face that Draco had then; although without it being followed by a sneer. I preferred that sneer to James’s pitying smiles and nudges: ‘I’m sorry I don’t love you the way you love me,’ they whispered. 

Harry was nothing like either of them. He looked down and blushed as he opened a package and thanked me more than the small trinkets deserved. He fought for and defended me. He never pushed me away.

It started just then, after Harry glared at Draco and then turned his attention back down to his plate, a small smile fighting against his embarrassment from Draco’s comments. 

They sat across from me at the kitchen table. Draco rolled his eyes and sneered at no one, while he undid the top button on his shirt. He often did so when annoyed. 

I watched them, torn between wanting to see them come together and enjoying being what kept them apart.

That time, just when he would normally rub his neck and let his posture drop with his hand, there was moment’s pause: his eyes flicked to mine and he undid two more buttons before exaggerating his familiar movements.

My cousin was very attractive. 

I thought of him as my cousin then, because I knew what he was doing the moment it began. I convinced myself that if I kept _who_ he was and _what_ he was doing in the front of my mind, then I could stop him from achieving his goal.

But he was very attractive, and he knew that.

It was rare that only the two of us were ever in a room together. How had I never noticed before that Draco was the source of this? He didn’t follow Harry around, but he never left us alone for long. Draco leaned against the doorway watching me read for a moment—listening to make sure Harry wasn’t too nearby it seemed—before he spoke.

‘It’s pathetic how hard you are on yourself for being gay.’ 

‘Is it?’ I never thought of it as simply ‘being gay’, but of course Draco would see himself and Harry as adults—it’s what they were—and not children as my generation would always look at them. I did not fall in love with Harry when I first met him: his thirteenth year. Harry was the type that you fell in love with gradually, and you weren’t even aware of it until you were already too deep. Over the course of the first few months that Harry lived with Draco and me—as I watched Draco fail in all his attempts to get Harry’s attention—I fell in love with him.

Draco recognised it before I did myself.

‘I’ve heard stories,’ Draco continued as he finally made his way into the room. ‘What a loyal friend you were to James despite . . .’ He made a vague gesture with his hand. ‘That’s why even your best friend didn’t question whether or not you really were the one to turn on them. A person can only handle so much torture—’

‘Being friends with James was never torture.’

He smirked and was getting entirely too close, but I did not move. In slow, purposeful movements he came to stand before me, kneeled in front of me, and then pushed apart my legs and snuck between them.

‘Don’t you ever get _tired_ of holding yourself back?’

His hands were all over me. Somewhere, I missed when, my book was placed aside—I must have been the one to abandoned it . . . perhaps when he knelt before me—because my hand was in his, and he brought it to his neck and was forcing me to trace his collarbone—his shirt still left open from the display in the kitchen earlier—then down the front of his chest.

I never stood a chance.

Just those simplest of touches completely undid me, and the kiss that followed tore me apart.

Everything he did was calculated: how quiet he was in the beginning—undressing himself completely and me only just enough—mounting me, riding me backwards—so he faced the door and I could barely see it above his shoulder—and then growing louder as I lost the ability to beg him to keep quiet. 

When he said, ‘Harry’ it registered to me but a whisper, and I had imagined he was saying it to me. I knew who he was really thinking of. Not the reality of Harry being there watching us, until Draco continued on: ‘Join us or leave.’ 

My eyes shot opened and met Harry’s shocked green ones. Oh, my poor innocent, Harry. Sensing my change in resolve, Draco clenched around me and brought my unsuspecting hand gently against his erection muddling my brain in sensation. 

Had I mentioned I’d never done this before? 

By the time I could open my eyes again, Harry was gone.

‘You did that on purpose,’ I said.

He scoffed. ‘Please, don’t turn into another dimwitted Gryffindor _now_.’

‘I am a Gryffindor, you snake.’

‘That was years ago.’ As I was spent, Draco took it upon himself to finish, and then began cleaning up.

‘You seemed smart enough this morning.’ 

‘After three years of living together, you’d think you’d know me better.’

He smirked. ‘I’d say I _know_ you rather well, wouldn’t you?’

#

‘Don’t you ever use a bed?’

I agreed with Harry. There was nothing I could do to get Draco in a bed. The purpose, of course, was for Harry to walk in on us, which was less likely to happen if we were in a bed.

‘If you joined us, we could use a bed. Three people wouldn’t fit as well on a couch.’

Harry blushed and looked away from Draco, and I stayed silent, afraid of how Draco would use my words against me. He hovered there a moment longer and my stomach jumped as it looked as though he’d taken a step forward. But it was short lived, and he turned closing the drawing room’s doors behind him.

Draco groaned in frustration and began fucking me harder. As always, I came first.

‘You know, I don’t think he quite understands that you _like_ him.’

He glared at me as he dressed and I laughed at him. What ever this was had relieved me of a lot of stress. I’d had no idea I’d been holding onto it, until it was gone.

‘You seem to be enjoying yourself.’

‘Aren’t you?’

He grabbed his firewhiskey and took a drink of it before leaning back against the lounge and side eyeing me. He looked to the door that Harry just left and took a couple more drinks, before he spoke again.

‘A bit.’

‘Why don’t you just kiss him.’

Draco glared, but not at me. ‘I can’t.’

I had to laugh. ‘You can purposefully have him walk in on you fucking another man, and invite him to join each time, but you can’t simply kiss him?’

‘Why don’t you “simply” kiss him?’

It wasn’t a simple fear of rejection. It was the fear of losing him altogether. ‘But,’ I said. ‘You don’t have a relationship with him to lose.’ The stinging hexes were worth the look on his face, and I couldn’t stop laughing as he stormed off. ‘Fuck.’ I was falling in love with him, too.

#

Once I’d relaxed enough into my pseudo-relationship with Draco to see the person hiding behind the fortress he built around himself, I began to see Harry more clearly as well. Harry’s eyes lingered on me longer when we spoke and in a way that suggested that he didn’t see me as a replacement for his father. Draco’s jealousy began to seem less and less pointless.

Harry and I were eating breakfast alone, because Draco overslept. 

There was less tension without Draco in the room.

When I got up to take my bowl to the sink, Harry followed me; I was trapped there after turning around, and a heartbeat later Harry leaned in as though to kiss me. This was why Draco never left us alone. But in the last moment he shifted as he made his way past me to the sink. When he turned around, to tease me more I was sure of it, I didn’t give him the chance. I kissed him. It didn’t become forceful or turn into anything more: just a simple kiss. It could have been friendly, if it hadn’t lingered.

Until Draco walked in.

Everyone stood frozen for a moment, and then Harry spoke. 

‘Join us or leave.’

It had to have been a joke. The look on Draco’s face suggested he felt the same, and part of me anticipated his leaving with delight. This had been what I wanted only a few weeks ago. But though Harry had little interest in Draco, he had won me over. So when he shifted backwards toward the door I reached out for him, not saying anything but calling him a fool all the same. This is what he wanted, perhaps not in the way he’d envisioned it, but what he wanted none the less.

He reluctantly came over and kissed me, and Harry nodded in resignation. He’d share if that’s what it took. 

We sat then. 

We ate.

We went about our day.

It ended in my bed. Harry between us and directing—he must have put himself there out of jealousy; how naive he was even then, but it wouldn’t last for long. With Harry inside him, Draco was more open than I’d ever seen him. Our eyes met for brief moments over Harry’s shoulder as we all moved together.

Whispering his name, Draco arched into Harry as he tried but failed to keep his eyes open. In that moment it finally clicked for Harry that Draco had never been after me. I couldn’t see Harry’s face and he didn’t stop moving, but I could feel his shoulders freeze beneath my mouth. Draco was too lost to hear the slight ‘Oh, Merlin’ that was _not_ a moan but a realisation. He relaxed back into me with a slight chuckle and turned to whisper in my ear, ‘That evil snake.’

‘Yes, but I quite like him.’

**Author's Note:**

> Please show your appreciation for the author here, or on [LIVEJOURNAL](http://hp-crossgenfest.livejournal.com/7916.html)! ♥


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